


in search of you(r glory)

by littlesnowpea



Series: until your breathing stops [4]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore
Genre: A Little Less Sixteen Candles A Little More "Touch Me" (Video), Angst, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 18:59:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13933272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesnowpea/pseuds/littlesnowpea
Summary: It had been two years, six months, and three (and a half) days since Brendon had seen Pete.Since any of them had seen Pete.





	in search of you(r glory)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunflashes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflashes/gifts).



> guess who's back and better than ever....
> 
> i know i haven't added to this series since 2015. a lot has happened since 2015. when i wrote this series, i was in college struggling to get a piece of paper that said i was a good writer. now i have that paper and i'm struggling to get a more expensive, fancier paper that reassures everyone that i'm still a good writer. 
> 
> that being said, i know there are a lot of inconsistencies in this series. and i'm sorry about that. part of me wants to go back and fix it (and i will if it like. super bugs you) but part of me thinks it's interesting to see how my writing has evolved. at any rate, i'm just happy so many people have read this and loved it. it means a lot.
> 
> all of that aside, i thought up the plot for this fic on the fly and had to write it, despite it being so long ago. i'm still in love with this universe, and i hope you are, too. 
> 
> feel free to yell at me in the comments. also mania heavily inspired this. in fact the title is from 'the last of the real ones' aka my FAVORITE TRACK.
> 
> it is primarily a brencer so i would title it after a new panic song IF WE HAD ANY.

It had been two years, six months, and three (and a half) days since Brendon had seen Pete. 

Since any of them had seen Pete. 

Brendon didn’t know if Pete left of his own free will, if Pete somehow lost his mind, if Pete went out for blood or something and got lost, if Pete was hurt, if Pete had died--he didn’t know anything. Reflecting on it, it didn’t really matter what the answer was. Pete’s absence hadn’t made Brendon’s heart grow fonder. It had made Brendon’s heart crack in half, held together in his chest with duct tape and erratic sutures. 

It was sort of like losing his parents all over again. It really was. Losing his parents the first time was hard--he knew he couldn’t interact with them as a vampire, he knew he was lost to them, but he knew they were happy at least. Losing Pete was an unknown, an ocean of tall waves and choppy waters rushing over his head, and it still hurt. Two years later and it still hurt.

Besides, he hadn’t just lost Pete. When Pete disappeared, every ounce of light in Patrick vanished, too, overnight, all at once, and it was like they couldn’t do anything to bring him back. 

It was a weird sort of life they all lived in now, a different existence without Pete. Sarah was great, always had been great, but their Clan was supposed to be run by two Sires, not one, and that was clearly where Pete’s loss was felt the most. 

“Good morning,” Spencer said quietly, lying beside him. It wasn’t morning, it was evening, but that didn’t matter. Spencer hadn’t slept and neither had Brendon, though they wouldn’t comment on it. They never did. 

“It’s his birthday,” Brendon said instead, and Spencer sucked in a quick breath. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Already.”

Already meant a lot of things to Brendon, it meant _second birthday without him_ and _almost three whole years_ and _what will we do about Patrick?_

A lot of their unspoken conversations revolved around what they were going to do about Patrick. Watching the grief Brendon felt multiplied by one hundred all over Patrick, who basically qualified as Brendon’s _parent_ \-- it was a hard thing. 

Brendon had already lost one set of parents. Sometimes, he thought losing his second set was a long bad dream he couldn’t wake up from. 

“You have to eat,” Spencer said, and Brendon made a noncommittal noise. “Because you haven’t in a couple days. You need blood, not just spaghetti-o’s.”

Brendon bit back the sarcastic _yes, mom_ he wanted to say--too painful for today-- and instead rolled onto his side to gently press a kiss to Spencer’s cheek, right above his beard. Seven years. He’d been with Spencer for seven years, living up to the stupid vows people made in weddings. For better or for worse. Even if it had mostly been _for worse._

“Love you, too,” Spencer said softly and Brendon pushed himself up. “I hear Sarah downstairs.”

“Right,” Brendon said.

\----

Brendon choked down some blood, not wanting to but hearing Pete’s voice in the back of his mind. Whenever he heard Pete’s voice, he did his best to power through whatever activity reminded him of Pete, because he didn’t have the energy to let himself think of Pete too long. He had a lot of other things to worry about, like running the Clan while Sarah and Linda and Spencer were all at work, and looking after Patrick when Andy needed a break, and worrying about Patrick during every spare moment he had. 

Like now. 

He thumbed over a chip in the door of the microwave as he watched a mug spin around and around. It had tea in it, tea for Patrick. A second mug waited on the counter--tea for Andy. 

“Thanks,” Joe said from behind him, and Brendon turned around to face him. He looked haggard, dark circles under his eyes, and Brendon’s heart sank. 

“Bad?” he asked, before he could stop himself. 

Joe shrugged one shoulder. 

“Happy birthday, Pete,” he said wryly, and Brendon nodded, ducking his head. A moment later, he felt Joe drop an arm around his shoulders and squeeze gently. 

“I know it’s hard for you, too,” he said softly. “It’s hard for all of us, but you and Patrick especially. You don’t need to hold it together today. We’re all here to hold it together for you.”

“I miss him,” Brendon said softly, voice cracking, and Joe nodded. 

“I know,” he said. “Why don’t you go grab the mail? Take a break, breathe a little. I’ll take the tea. You don’t want to see Patrick, anyway.”

Brendon didn’t argue that because it was true. Much as he hated it, he didn’t really want to see Patrick, didn’t want to breathe in his despair, thick around him constantly. It broke Brendon’s heart every time, and Brendon’s heart was already sore enough today.

He bumped his hip against Joe’s and headed out of the kitchen. The hallway was dark, the electricity to this part of the hotel sketchy at best. Brendon could hear the wind outside, so he assumed now was nowhere near at best. He trailed his fingers across the peeling wallpaper on his way to the front door, dropping his arm to his side once he reached it. 

It was windy, but not as windy as Brendon expected. Still, it was a cold wind regardless, May not warm in the forest like it was in the town. He wrapped his arms around himself, fingers grabbing onto the old plaid shirt he’d stolen from Spencer, and ducked his head as he walked the familiar path to the road. 

He sucked in a deep breath. The smell of the forest was pungent around him, rich and vibrant. That meant rain, and soon, so Brendon aimed a kick at a rock and picked up his pace. Habit made him glance around him even though he knew there was nothing in the forest that would get him, even though he knew he was completely safe. 

He half expected to see Pete, he always did, wherever he went. Pete in the overgrown garden, Pete leaning against the beat up piano Brendon still played when he wanted to be alone, Pete everywhere Brendon could still perfectly imagine him being, like he’d been gone two minutes and not two years. 

Sometimes he missed Pete so much he felt sick.

He banged the top of the old mailbox hard, unsticking the lid. It was crooked, installed haphazardly by Zack, who didn’t have the patience to do it right. Pete--fuck--always bitched about it but he also did nothing to fix it, so. It stayed. 

There was a full stack of mail, but Brendon expected nothing less. He hadn’t been down in about a week, and nobody else took the trek. He wiggled the stack a little until it slid out, and propped the stack against the mailbox as he sorted through everything. 

About half were varying human advertisements, the type everyone gets whether they subscribed to them or not, so Brendon dropped them to his feet without looking at them. There were bills but he’d have to find Sarah for those later. A Netflix DVD that informed him it had actually been due several months ago made him snort a little, but it was the only interesting thing there.

Besides a black envelope with silver writing, the edges so sharp Brendon sliced his thumb open just picking it up. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, sticking his thumb in his mouth. He didn’t bleed very much, just a little, but that shit stung more than paper ought to. He narrowed his eyes and shoved his glasses up, handling the envelope with more care. 

In sweeping cursive, the writing informed Brendon this was intended to be received by Patrick, but there was no return address. Patrick never got mail, and when he did, Andy dealt with it, but this seemed far different. Something in Brendon felt unsettled, so he stuck the bills and the DVD into his back pocket and gingerly slid the envelope open. 

A neat, crisp, folded piece of stationary fell out, thick like it was folded around something, and Brendon felt a little nauseated as he stared at it for a long moment. He wondered if it might bite him, or if there was something bad inside, and debated throwing it on the ground like the ads.

A drop of rain hit the top of his hand and his thumb joint, startling him out of the slightly hysterical contemplations. He sucked in a deep breath. If it was something deadly, he’d probably already be dead. 

He unfolded the paper with shaking hands. Inside were pictures, a stack of them. Brendon held them in one hand as he held the letter in another--or what was supposed to qualify as a letter, he guessed. It was entirely blank except for one sentence written in the same cursive as the envelope-- _Consider carefully._

Consider what carefully, Brendon wasn’t sure, so he turned his attention to the photos.

It took a long, endless moment for his brain to comprehend what he was seeing. As the realization dawned, he felt his heart sink, his breathing skip--was this real?

It was a series of photographs that Brendon guessed spanned two years. They were mostly of Pete in varying stages of what looked to be torture. His stomach twisted as he recognized burns, like Pete had been in the sun, bite marks, like he’d been poisoned with vampire venom, bruises, like a good old fashioned beating--picture after picture of Pete near death. 

And in the corner of several, Brendon could see glimpses of the Sangsue flag, the bastardized American flag, making it clear exactly who was responsible. The Sangsue, or their remnants, had taken Pete from them. 

Brendon flipped to the last one, vaguely aware of tears on his cheeks, hands trembling wildly. He wondered if he was having a bad dream, but his thumb still throbbed from the cut and the rain was cold and wet as it began falling harder. This was real. These were real pictures of Pete.

The last picture, though, wasn’t Pete, and wasn’t recent. It wasn’t crisp and pristine--it was wrinkled, worn at the edges, because Brendon knew it lived in Pete’s wallet, and had for more than seven years. 

It was him, so much younger, face thin and pale. It was when he was just a little over two years turned, and he was resting his head on Patrick’s shoulder. 

Patrick was younger, too, hair white-blond like it was when things were bad with the Sangsue, like it was now. He was grinning, though, grinning like Brendon hadn’t seen in forever, and Brendon felt a sob build in his chest.

That really was Pete. They took this picture from Pete. They really had Pete, Brendon could _smell_ Pete on the photo alone.

He turned it over to find the same handwriting scrawled across the back of the photo. 

_Yourself or the feral for the Sire._

Brendon felt everything come crashing down.

\----

“We have to tell him,” Sarah said hoarsely. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the pictures since Brendon had stumbled to her room, dripping wet from the rain, and thrust them at her. Her hands were shaking, too, and it wasn’t like her to lose control, she was vampire through and through, but Brendon could smell the shock on her. 

“We can’t,” Brendon argued. “We can’t, because he wouldn’t even think twice before giving himself up for Pete.”

“We can not tell him that part,” Sarah said. 

“The only proof that these are real is Pete’s picture,” Brendon pointed out. “And we can’t somehow prevent him from seeing Pete’s picture. And the threat.”

“God,” Sarah whispered. “God, they took him. How did they get him? How?”

“How are we supposed to get him back?” Brendon asked. “There wasn’t a return address.”

“No,” Sarah said instantly. “No you are _not_ going. Fuck no. If you or Patrick tried this, Pete would murder me once he came back. No, we’ll find another way.”

“What other way?” Brendon asked desperately. “They didn’t give us anything! No time limit! How do we know he’s not dead--”

“What are you talking about?”

Patrick’s voice, heard so little lately, shocked Brendon like an ice cold shower or sparks of magic from Patrick’s own hands. He sucked in a deep breath, feeling his whole body restart, and looked kind of desperately at Sarah before turning around slowly. 

Patrick was standing in the doorway. He looked awful, but that was basically par for the course. His hair was back to being shockingly white-blond again, and he was thin and pale. Brendon felt his heart break. 

He halfway reached out to him before freezing, Patrick’s misery so strong, coming off him in waves. Brendon couldn’t smell things as well as a born vampire could, but he could smell this clearly. 

Patrick, surprisingly, reached out, too, taking Brendon’s hand gently. His skin was cold, and Brendon took a couple of steps towards him. Patrick didn’t let go. 

“I’m not going to let you do it,” Sarah said, before sighing. “Here.”

She held the stack of pictures out to Brendon, who took them after a moment’s hesitation, before looking at Patrick apprehensively. 

“What?” Patrick asked, taking the pictures from Brendon’s hand. He stilled instantly as he looked at the first one, breath catching. He let go of Brendon in order to flip through the rest with hands shaking as hard as Brendon’s had. 

“When?” he asked, and Brendon sighed. 

“I just checked the mail today and it was in there,” he said quietly. Patrick looked up at Sarah, eyes hard. 

“You’re not going to let me do what?” he asked, and Sarah raked a hand through her hair. 

“Last picture,” she said, and Patrick looked back down. He sucked in a quick breath and the tension across his shoulders doubled.

“They do have him,” he said numbly, eyes on the picture from Pete’s wallet. “They’ve had him all along.”

Patrick flipped the picture over, like Brendon knew he would do, and read what was written. Brendon was tense, practically shaking, and wanted to latch onto Patrick like he did when he was younger, latch on and never let him go. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. If Patrick did this, he would go, too. He had to.

“If they wanted me, why wait until now?” Patrick asked, instead of _I’m going_ or _you can’t stop me_ or any of the other million things Brendon was worried he would say. “All this time and only now do they send this?”

“It’s obviously a trap,” Andy said, taking the photos from Patrick and flipping through them himself. “For all we know, they don’t even have Pete anymore.”

“He probably died,” Patrick said flatly. “And they’re trying to pick the rest of us off.”

_No,_ Brendon wanted to protest. Patrick couldn’t say that, Patrick couldn’t believe Pete was dead.

He didn’t, though. Brendon saw it all over Patrick’s face--he didn’t believe Pete was dead, not for a second. He was trying to rationalize it just like everyone else. 

“All of that aside,” Sarah said. “They left us no way of getting back to them at all. No return address.”

“Where’s Linda?” Patrick asked, and Sarah frowned. 

“Not sure,” she said. “You think she’d be able to pick something up?”

“No idea,” Patrick said. “But it’s worth a shot.”

“Linda smells stuff better than any of us,” Sarah agreed. “And Spencer’s not far behind her. I’ll go get them.”

Sarah’s eyes slid over Patrick and onto Andy, and she sent him a meaningful look. Andy nodded, and Sarah took a deep breath before slipping away. Brendon watched her go before looking back at Patrick apprehensively. 

Patrick was looking at the pictures again, and there was a mixture of grief and pain on his face. Brendon knew he was taking in every last horrible detail, because that was the way Patrick was. He was trying to find absolutely anything they could use, no matter how much it hurt to look at Pete. 

“I knew he wouldn’t leave, Andy,” Patrick whispered, and Andy nodded. 

“I knew, too,” he said back. “We’ll get him back.”

Patrick nodded jerkily. 

\----

It was almost a family affair, as sick as that sounded. By the time Linda and Spencer were rounded up, the news had spread through the clan. They were all gathered in the huge foyer that served as their living room, all watching attentively as Spencer and Linda spread the pictures, envelope, and note out on paper towels--to avoid scent contamination, Spencer said. 

Linda’s expression was hard as she stared intently at them. Brendon was sort of trembling. He wanted to press against Spencer’s side, he wanted to comfort Patrick, he wanted to help--but there wasn’t much he could do, really. In terms of being able to pick out smells, he was near the bottom of the totem pole. 

He glanced at Patrick. He was sitting, back against the wall, Andy next to him. A slice of moonlight caught half his face, highlighted the anxiety and fear and desperation that even Brendon could smell on him. His hat cast the rest of his face in shadow, but Brendon didn’t need to see it to know Patrick was near tears. He had his hands clasped in front of him, almost like he was praying. Maybe he was. 

Linda glanced up at Patrick, then at Sarah, and sighed. 

“I don’t know if it’s good or bad that it’s real,” she said, clearly trying to be gentle. “And it hasn’t been sitting in the mailbox too long. Pete’s scent is still pretty fresh.”

Patrick nodded, looking down at the carpet. 

“It’s good,” he said, but it sounded forced. “He’s alive.”

“There’s….there’s something else,” Linda said carefully, looking at Spencer, and then almost apprehensively at Brendon. “It’s weird.”

“Weird how?” Sarah asked, because Brendon was too slow on the uptake. Linda looked at Spencer again, and Spencer sighed. 

“It smells like you, B,” Spencer said finally. “And I want to say it’s because you handled it so much but…”

Patrick looked up sharply and Brendon swallowed.

“But?” he somehow forced himself to ask. “What’s the but?”

“But you smell so much younger,” Linda finished, when it became apparent that Spencer either didn’t know what to say or couldn’t say it. “And human.”

“I haven’t been human in almost ten years,” Brendon said, even though it was obvious. He felt a little numb. He had no idea what Linda was trying to say. “How can it smell like human me?”

“I don’t think it was intentional,” Linda said, handing a photo to Sarah for her to smell. “It’s so faint, almost inadvertent. Like it wasn’t part of the whole threat at all.”

“But,” Brendon said, because he felt like he could barely wrap his head around any of this. “But how could this happen? How could my human smell stay for so long, and how do they have it?”

“I don’t know, Brendon,” Linda sighed. “This whole thing is strange and unusual.”

“But it’s real?” Patrick asked. His voice was flat, his eyes were almost lifeless, but he had that familiar set to his jaw that said he was determined. Brendon knew that a determined Patrick is a Patrick that makes things happen. Brendon just wasn’t sure what he wanted to happen.

“Very,” Linda confirmed. “I’m not sure if we can track it.”

“It was hand-delivered here,” Andy pointed out, and Linda frowned. “I mean, there’s no stamp.”

Linda looked at the envelope and stilled before meeting Spencer’s eyes. 

“So they walked up to the mailbox at least,” she said, tapping the envelope against her thigh. “And this smells like it was delivered no later than yesterday. It could still be fresh.”

“We should check,” Spencer said. “We should double check the defenses, too.”

“What will you do if you pick up the scent?” Brendon asked. He was shaking a little now. He couldn’t get the pictures of Pete out of his mind. It was like they were burned into his brain. “What can we do?”

“We’ll have to come up with something,” Linda said carefully. “We’ll have to work on it. But I think you and Patrick should be under lockdown.”

“ _No,”_ Patrick and Brendon said immediately. 

“They specifically asked for you,” Linda said. 

“It smells like you, Bren, and we don’t know why,” Spencer added. “Do either of you really think it’ll help anything to put yourselves in danger?”

“This is the closest we’ve come to finding him,” Patrick said, an edge of desperation in his voice. Sarah sighed. 

“I know,” she said quietly. “I know, I really know, but we can’t play into their hands, either. We have to consider that this is all exactly what they want.”

“What if it’s our only chance?” Patrick asked, voice quiet this time, sounding near tears. Andy gently put his arm around Patrick’s shoulders as Patrick took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “What if we don’t get another?”

“I won’t let that happen,” Sarah said, voice firm. “Patrick, I’d move mountains to get Pete back.”

Patrick choked on a sob and Brendon felt his heart break more. 

\-----

Linda and Spencer went out about an hour ago. They told Brendon not to go anywhere, but it would be an insult to their intelligence to think they trusted him to listen. Which is why Brendon found himself creeping down the hall, thankful that growing older as a vampire had made him far more lighter on foot, heading for the door to Patrick’s neglected gardens. 

The door creaked, but not any different than the way it creaked in the wind, so Brendon wasn’t worried about drawing attention. He took the three steps down into the greenhouse as one and made his way to the outside door. His mate was absolutely crazy if he thought Brendon wasn’t going to be involved. And Brendon would tell him that the second Spencer inevitably caught him.

“You still can’t sneak past me,” Patrick said, voice quiet, and Brendon stopped in his tracks. 

“I wasn’t trying to,” he pointed out, and turned to face Patrick. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Patrick said, and Brendon hesitantly walked over to him, pausing a moment before sitting on the old wooden bench next to him. 

Patrick was cross-legged, hands folded neatly in his lap. He had a hat pulled over his hair--Brendon sort of remembered Mages had to hide it, but he couldn’t remember why. Up close, Brendon could see the dark circles under Patrick’s eyes, the lines on his face. 

He hadn’t seen Patrick in so long.

“I’ve abandoned you,” Patrick said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Brendon said, even though a tiny part of him agreed, a tiny part of him pointed out that he’d been there for Patrick but Patrick hadn’t been there for him. “You’re grieving.”

“So are you,” Patrick whispered, reaching out to brush Brendon’s hair back. His fingertips were ice cold, like Patrick was a ghost, and Brendon repressed a shudder. “You’re grieving and I abandoned you. You needed me.”

“I want this to be a bad dream,” Brendon choked out, leaning a little against Patrick. Patrick didn’t push him away, so Brendon leaned a little more. He felt Patrick’s hand on his shoulder, and a second later, warmth spread through Brendon’s body. Brendon looked up at Patrick, swallowing past the lump of tears in his throat. 

It was the first time Patrick had used magic in a very long time.

“I want it to be a bad dream, too,” Patrick said softly. “More than anything. I’d give any part of me to make it not true. I miss him so much it hurts. But I’ve failed you and I’ve failed Sarah and I’ve failed Pete. It wasn’t my job to close down. It was my job to stand up.”

Brendon hugged Patrick as best he could, hugged him tight, trying to keep calm no matter how much he wanted to break down. This whole situation was agonizing, and it never seemed to get better.

“I love you,” Brendon said, voice hoarse, and Patrick squeezed him. 

“I love you, too,” he said. “I don’t--I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same again if we don’t find him. But I won’t fail you anymore.”

“You never did,” Brendon protested, but Patrick didn’t argue. He ran his fingers through Brendon’s hair and sighed. 

“You’re not allowed to give yourself up,” he said finally, and Brendon gave him a dirty look. 

“Neither are you,” he countered. “Besides, even if we gave ourselves up, they probably wouldn’t let Pete go.”

“I know,” Patrick said, voice wavering. “But a tiny part of me is demanding that I try.”

“We’re gonna find something else,” Brendon said softly. “You know we will. We have an actual lead now.”

Patrick nodded, but Brendon knew he was still terrified. They lapsed into silence, the only sound the wind outside making their windchimes sound. Brendon imagined for a moment that Pete was out there. Maybe he’d come in any second and this was all really a bad dream.

“Why do you think the letter smelled like human you?” Patrick asked, out of nowhere, drawing him back to reality. Brendon blinked in surprise.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve been trying to figure it out.”

“Did you smell the pictures?” Patrick asked, and Brendon shook his head. 

“I mean, I smelled Pete on them,” he said. “But I didn’t try any harder. I knew I’d be useless.”

“I think you should,” Patrick said. “You’re not useless in the first place, but I think you should see if you can smell human you, too. Or if they’re mixing something up.”

“You think I can smell better than Linda?” Brendon asked doubtfully. 

“I think you have a better sense of human scents than Linda,” Patrick corrected. “She mixes Joe and Zack up all the time. You never do.”

“True,” Brendon said. “What if I can’t?”

“Then at least we tried,” Patrick said softly. Brendon reached up and tugged off Patrick’s hat, letting his hair fall out from hiding. The strands were soft and nearly totally white, and Patrick pushed them out of his eyes. 

His eyes looked sort of hollow, icy blue, but Brendon took comfort in the fact that he could see them at least.

“I’ll try,” Brendon said finally, and Patrick kissed his forehead.

 

\-----

Brendon sat across from Linda and Spencer in the greenhouse, Patrick still next to him. He stared somewhat blankly at the stack of pictures before looking up uncertainly.

“It will hurt nothing to try,” Linda said gently. “We won’t lose the scent. Just focus on the human scent in there.”

“Okay,” Brendon said, but his voice was barely audible. Before he could convince himself any different, he took a deep breath, nose against the pictures, eyes closing. 

He could pick out the scent they were talking about right away, which was surprising. It was human, and it did sort of smell like Brendon, but it also smelled familiar. Brendon couldn’t place it right away. He let the breath out and tried again. 

The scent was much clearer this time, and Brendon could picture where he’d smelled it before. He saw the red front door, pristine like it always had been. He saw the wide entryway, big picture windows letting in the Vegas sun, shining off the cross mounted on the wall. 

He saw the huge leather armchair, where the scent was strongest, where Brendon spent afternoons eagerly waiting for his dad to come home. The chair smelled so strongly like his dad, Brendon couldn’t believe he’d ever forgotten it. 

His heart hammered. The photos were still pressed to his nose, so he breathed in his dad’s scent every time he took a breath. It felt like he was stuck in a dream--he’d left his parents, willingly left them, didn’t get along with them when he was human and had to stay away after he was turned. He didn’t expect to miss them anymore, and certainly never expected to smell them alongside distinctive born vampire smell, alongside Pete.

He tried to make himself open his mouth. He tried to put the pictures down, to look up, to face his family and _tell them--_ but something stopped him. A small voice deep in his heart reminded him how stubborn his father was, how religious, how much he wouldn’t listen to a vampire telling him anything if the vampire wasn’t Brendon.

Brendon couldn’t explain how his father’s scent was mixed with a letter from the remains of the Sangsue, but he knew it couldn’t be his dad’s fault. It had to be an accident, and he could make his dad _understand_ , his dad could help. His dad couldn’t know what he was involved in. Brendon refused to believe it.

But it had to be Brendon that approached him. There was only one problem--Brendon didn’t have to look at Spencer to know that would never be allowed to happen.

He knew he was supposed to be older now, supposed to be mature and well developed and all that shit, but he also knew nothing else would work. If they wanted Pete back--and _God,_ they wanted Pete back--he had to throw all his common sense straight out the window and handle this himself.

So, he lied. Linda could smell lies, he knew she could, but he was fairly sure she could only smell them off the born, so he threw caution to the wind anyway.

“I smell the human,” Brendon said slowly, proud of how he pretty much sounded sincere. His acting had improved. Pete would be proud, Brendon was pretty sure. Once he got past Brendon’s momentary lapse in judgement.“It does kind of smell like me. But I think…”

“You think what?” Spencer asked, as Brendon fished around for a lie. Brendon felt Spencer’s hands, gentle on his wrists, and felt terrible for a half a second before remembering that lying to Spencer was a small price to pay for saving Pete from torture.

“I think that some humans smell really similar,” Brendon said carefully. He was talking out his ass completely. He just hoped no one could smell the bullshit. “Like, other Hawaiians?”

“Makes sense,” Sarah said slowly, and Brendon choked back a slightly hysterical laugh. No, it didn’t. But Sarah had never been human. “Why would a human be hanging around with a Sangsue sect?”

“They brainwash humans all the time,” Linda pointed out. “Or did, at least. Maybe we could use it.”

“How?” Spencer asked, and Linda sighed.

“We’ll figure it out,” Sarah said, and she even sounded like she believed it. “Let’s take a break. It’s hard to look at the pictures.”

Brendon sucked in a deep breath and tried not to worry about being too late to help Pete. He tried.

\----

Brendon threw clothes and sunscreen and money and his blood card into a bag while Spencer was in the shower and shoved it under their bed. He wished he could tell Spencer his plan. He wanted to kiss him and tell him he’d be careful and he loved him, but Spencer would stop him. 

Brendon had to do this. 

He waited until Spencer’s telltale werewolf snarl/snores began before sucking in a deep breath and slipping from his embrace, dressing quickly and retrieving the bag. He hesitated, watching Spencer for a long moment, before pressing a kiss to his forehead and slipping a note into his hand.

_I love you._

Brendon didn’t have a choice, not really. Pete had saved his life. It was time to save Pete’s.

He was proud of how silently he walked as he made his way down the stairs and across the foyer, eyes on the front door. It was still dusk, so Brendon estimated he had about an hour and a half of darkness left before he had to wait out the day. Although, if it was cloudy like it had been, he could get away with the sunscreen. 

At any rate, he had to leave first. He adjusted his bag before reaching for the front door handle, sucking in a deep breath.

_Let this work._

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

Patrick’s voice made Brendon’s heart sink into his stomach, and Patrick _swearing_ almost made him whine and beg for forgiveness, but he couldn’t. Brendon didn’t think Patrick could stop him, not without hurting him, and Brendon was willing to bet Patrick would never be able to bring himself to hurt Brendon. Not on purpose. 

“Patrick,” Brendon tried, turning to face him. There was fire in Patrick’s eyes, the first emotion besides grief Brendon had seen on him in a while, and Brendon knew there would a) be no placating him and b) hardly any time to escape once Patrick raised hell.

“I thought you understood that giving yourself up would do nothing,” Patrick said. “Nothing! You think they’ll let Pete go? No. They have no intention of letting Pete go, Bren. And if you think for one second that I’m about to lose you, too, you’ve lost your mind.”

“I’m not,” Brendon said. Patrick narrowed his eyes. “I’m not giving myself up. I--there’s another way. At least, I think so.”

“You have about thirty seconds to explain yourself before I shout for Spencer,” Patrick said, and Brendon sighed. 

“The scent on the photos was my father,” he said, and Patrick took a step back, blinking in surprise. “There was no mistaking it. I knew it. And I don’t know how he came into contact with the Sangsue, but I know I can get him to talk. I know it. But he won’t talk to anyone else. He’s...he just won’t. I have to go talk to him by myself.”

“And then what?” Patrick demanded. “You bring him here? You go by yourself?”

“Haven’t gotten that far,” Brendon admitted, and Patrick raked a hand through his hair, pushing his glasses back up with an almost weary sigh.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Patrick said finally. 

“I have to try,” Brendon replied. 

Patrick narrowed his eyes.

“I’m coming with you,” he said, and it was Brendon’s turn to step back in shock. Patrick swallowed and stuck his hands in his pockets. 

“You need a magic with you,” Patrick explained. “I understand your concerns about your father but you are still a turned vampire. You need someone with you and it should be a magic. You can try convincing Andy, but I somehow doubt he’ll see your point.”

“What’ll they think if we both disappear?” Brendon asked. 

“The worst,” Patrick said. “So we better come back.”

“Okay,” Brendon said.

\---

They made it to the Greyhound station and onto a six AM bus to Las Vegas before the sun began to rise. The road was bumpy and Brendon was under a blanket, head on Patrick’s shoulder. He was holding Patrick’s hand, like when he was barely turned and the Sangsue were everywhere and he was scared, except this time he was only scared of losing Patrick. 

Brendon couldn’t sleep, even though he knew he should. By the time they reached Las Vegas, it would be nightfall again, and they would have no time to rest before seeking out Brendon’s dad.

Brendon just hoped his parents hadn’t moved. 

He wormed his free hand carefully out from under the blanket to steal Patrick’s coffee. Patrick allowed it after an almost amused snort, and Brendon grinned before he could help himself.

Patrick still smelled like grief, like misery and heartache, but he also smelled like home, smelled like their Clan, smelled like love, like he always had. It was muted under everything else, but Patrick was still there. Patrick was here, warm under Brendon, by his side even though this was all probably a crazy idea. 

“I miss you,” Brendon whispered, and, after a moment, Patrick squeezed his hand. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and Brendon shook his head even though Patrick couldn’t see him. 

“When Pete disappeared, I was crushed,” Brendon said quietly, squeezing Patrick’s hand. “But...but I can’t even imagine how it felt for you. I tried to imagine how I would feel if I lost Spencer and it was so agonizing I could barely handle it. And you had no choice. It killed me that I couldn’t do anything.”

Patrick sucked in a quick breath before ducking under the blanket, too, squeezing Brendon’s hand again. His eyes were soft, less icy than they had been for two years, and he pressed a kiss to the back of Brendon’s hand. 

“I still remember the first day I saw you,” Patrick said, brushing Brendon’s scraggly bangs out of his eyes. 

“I don’t,” Brendon teased, and Patrick actually huffed a laugh. He thumbed over the scar interrupting Brendon’s eyebrow, from the baseball bat Jon had hit him with seven years ago, and Brendon buried his face in Patrick’s neck before he could help it. He could smell Patrick’s blood, hear his pulse, but unlike seven years ago, it barely fazed him now. 

He wrapped his arms around Patrick as best he could in the awkward and uncomfortable bus seats, and Patrick squeezed him back, taking a deep breath. 

“You were so young,” Patrick whispered. “As young as I was when Pete found me. I couldn’t let you die. Neither could Pete.”

“How old were you?” Brendon asked, one of the many questions he’d always longed to ask Patrick but never did, especially after Pete went missing. But now, under a blanket on a bus heading to Las Vegas, Brendon let himself ask. 

“When Pete found me?” Patrick asked, without a flash of pain this time, and Brendon nodded. “Eighteen. He didn’t really find me.”

“He didn’t?” Brendon asked, incredulous, and Patrick gave him a wry grin. 

“No,” he said. “He tried to kill me.”

Brendon pulled his head out, gaping, and Patrick actually laughed a little. He gently kissed Brendon’s forehead before sighing. 

“He was out of his mind,” Patrick said. “It wasn’t his fault. I didn’t die.”

“Good,” Brendon whispered, and Patrick cocked his head. 

“I don’t know how they got him,” Patrick whispered. “I really don’t. I want to blame myself but he would never forgive me if I did.”

“It’s not your fault,” Brendon said, because it was true. “And we’re going to get him back.”

“I believe you,” Patrick said quietly, and Brendon rested his head on Patrick’s shoulder again, taking a deep breath as the bus continued down the highway.

\----

The cherry-red door was almost a too cheerful to look at, kind of a shock to Brendon. It almost scared him--behind that door was his father, and maybe answers. Maybe his father would know what was happening. Maybe he would know where Pete was. 

Brendon shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be interacting with humans besides the ones already in his Clan. He was breaking every rule in the vampire book, but he had to. It was their only chance.

He looked next to him, at Patrick, and took another deep breath before raising his fist and knocking. 

What seemed like endless silence followed Brendon’s knocks. The desert air blew by them, warm even at night, a shock of familiarity that Brendon never thought he’d see again. The sky was a wide expanse of stars, from horizon to horizon, and he exhaled slowly and squeezed Patrick’s hand.

He flinched a bit as the lock slid back and the doorknob turned. The door swung open and Brendon tried to catch his breath as he came face to face with his mom. 

She looked the same as he remembered, maybe with a few more wrinkles and grey hairs, but otherwise the same. Her dark hair was in its usual bun, she wore the same style dress she wore throughout Brendon’s childhood, and the same pink lipstick.

“Hi,” Brendon somehow managed. His mom was pale, like she’d seen a ghost, and even took a step back for a moment, pressing a hand to her heart. Brendon swallowed hard, but he didn’t get any time to wonder or plan what to say, because his mom reached out and pulled him into her arms.

Brendon’s breath caught as her scent hit him, making him a little dizzy. It was powerful, at least emotionally, because for a moment he forgot Patrick was there, or why he was here. He even forgot he was a vampire at all. His heart ached to come home--but he couldn’t.

“Where have you been?” his mom said, voice wavering. “You’ve been gone so long.”

Brendon swallowed as his mom released him before she smoothed down wrinkles in his shirt like he was twelve again. She cupped his face and Brendon saw her relief turn to confusion as she realized how cold his skin was. This was going to be far more difficult than he expected. 

“I had to leave, Mom,” he whispered. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“So you _were_ kidnapped?” she asked, voice cracking. “Boyd was right?”

“What?” Brendon asked, feeling his heart sink. “What? No. No, I wasn’t kidnapped. It’s...it’s hard to explain.”

“Come inside,” his mom said, almost begging, stepping back from the door. “Come in. Who’s this?”

“This is Patrick, Mom,” Brendon said softly. “He saved my life.”

“Oh,” his mom whispered, and Brendon followed her into the house.

The human scent was overwhelming, hitting him all at once, choking him. He smelled his mom, and his sisters and brothers and faintly, his father. Like his father hadn’t been here in years.

“Where’s Dad?” Brendon asked as his mom stopped in the doorway to the living room. She looked at him, sadness crossing her face, before she glanced at Patrick and sighed. 

“He left,” she said sadly. “A few months after you disappeared. He met some people who convinced him you’d been taken by some cult. He wouldn’t listen to reason.”

“You haven’t heard from him?” Brendon asked, heart sinking. His mom cleared her throat. 

“He calls once a month,” she said, shoulders slumping. “But he isn’t the same. And neither are you. Bren, please. Make some sense of this for me.”

His mom sank into a chair like she was too exhausted to stand, and Brendon sat on the couch, Patrick silently copying him. Brendon looked at Patrick, who took his hand again and squeezed--he was there. Brendon knew he was there, even if this crashed and burned, even if this failed. He knew Patrick would always be there. 

“You’re not going to believe me at first,” Brendon said slowly. “But please try. I’m not lying. I’m telling the truth.”

“I would believe anything at this point,” his mom said. “I really would. I can’t believe you’re alive.”

“I’m not,” Brendon said quietly, and his mom froze. Brendon took a shuddering breath as Patrick squeezed his hand. “I’m not alive anymore, Mom. I was attacked nine years ago and died.”

“Attacked?” his mom asked shakily. “ _Died?_ ”

“A group of vampires attacked me,” Brendon continued. He was trembling a little. He was glad Patrick was here because he couldn’t imagine explaining this on his own. At least if his mom called the asylum, Patrick would get him out. “Another vampire saved me from permanent death by changing me into a vampire, too. In order to be safe, I had to leave completely. I’m sorry, Mom.”

“A vampire?” his mom asked, in disbelief. “Brendon, what are you talking about? Who told you this?”

“Nobody told me,” Brendon said quietly. “It’s true.”

His mom was gripping the arms of the chair so tightly her knuckles were white. Her face was pale and she was chewing on her bottom lip, smearing the lipstick a little. She looked from Brendon to Patrick. 

“Is he one, too?” she asked suddenly, eyes on Patrick. “Is he like you?”

Brendon glanced over at Patrick, who nodded. 

“Not exactly,” Brendon said. “He’s not a vampire. He’s a magic.”

“A magic?” his mom asked. 

“A witch,” Patrick corrected. Brendon looked at him in shock, and he shrugged. “She’s human. That’s the only word she knows.”

“A witch?” Brendon’s mom said, like she was just repeating words, like she was in shock. “This isn’t real.”

“It is,” Brendon said. “It is real. I never wanted to tell you. I didn’t want to break your heart. But I had to come because I have to talk to Dad. He’s in this, Mom. I don’t know what he did or why, but he’s involved in something terrible.”

“Tell me,” his mom pleading, looking from Patrick to Brendon. “I’ll listen. I’ll help. Just tell me everything. Please.”

\---

Brendon’s mom took every piece of horrible information like a champ. He almost didn’t recognize her--the mother he left didn’t do this. The mother he left didn’t even want to hear that Brendon liked boys, and here she was absorbing and accepting the fact that Brendon was a vampire. 

Maybe his father had changed her by leaving. 

She _did_ believe them, too, Brendon could tell. After Patrick demonstrated his magic and Brendon reluctantly showed her his fangs, she passed out. Patrick revived her and she woke up and agreed to help them.

His dad’s last known location was actually Reno. Only seven hours away from Las Vegas, and less time than that from Eureka. From home. Pete was probably six hours away the whole time and they didn’t even know. 

If Brendon had an ounce of energy left in him, he’d probably spend it bitterly hating himself. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wished for this,” his mom said quietly, sitting beside him. She had a mug of tea in her hands and she was watching him with wide eyes. “Well, not exactly this. But I’ve dreamt of you coming home almost every night for nine years.”

“I’m sorry,” Brendon whispered, but his mom shook her head. 

“You had to, I know,” she said. “You did it to protect us. Did you miss us?”

“Yeah,” Brendon managed. “I did.”

His mom sniffed and nodded. 

“I owe your friend everything,” she said. “Patrick. He protected you.”

“So did Pete,” Brendon said, and his mom nodded again.

“Pete, too,” she agreed. “I can’t believe Boyd--well. It is what it is. Please don’t get hurt, Bren.”

“I’m going to do my best not to,” Brendon said. “But I’d do anything to get Pete back, mom.”

“He must be amazing,” his mom said, a little sadly. “To have such dedication.”

“He’s more,” Brendon said. “He--he didn’t have to save my life. It was a death sentence for him to save my life. He did it anyway. He kept me anyway. And now there’s a chance, no matter how small, that I can save him, too? I have to, mom.”

“I know you do,” his mom said tearfully. “Will you forget about me once you’ve left?”

“I never could,” Brendon said. “I never did. I don’t have to keep my distance anymore.”

“Please don’t,” his mom whispered, and Brendon ducked his head.

\----

Reno was just about as desolate as Brendon thought it would be. His first glimpse of it, illuminated by the rising sun, was unimpressive, and now, in dusk, it wasn’t better. 

The air was warm, borderline uncomfortably dry, and most of all, arid. Brendon hated it. He hated it when he was a kid, but it was worse as a vampire. He knew intellectually that of course vampires lived in the desert, because vampires lived everywhere, but he just didn’t see how. 

185 Vine Street was a dismal place, and Brendon was pretty sure he wasn’t being dramatic. Empty beer cans littered the street, along with abandoned sofas that had seen many, many better days, and full garbage bags that stank so much it almost made Brendon nauseous. 

He took a deep breath. He felt the weight of the spell Patrick had cast on him and was comforted by it. As long as he could feel it, he passed as human. He was safe--well. More or less. 

Patrick, next to him, was a walking miracle. Brendon had no idea how he’d done it--all Patrick had given him was a hurried _I’m a Mage, what did you expect--_ but Patrick...he looked human. Smelled human. Acted human. 

If Brendon didn’t know, he would swear to his grave Patrick was completely human. 

Magic still never ceased to amaze Brendon. 

They rounded the corner. Brendon’s heart was in his throat. Number three was upstairs. Brendon could see the window, covered with heavy blackout curtains. He could smell the born vampires from a mile away. 

But he couldn’t smell his father yet. Or Pete. 

The stairs echoed under their feet as they climbed up. The metal railing rattled and groaned as Brendon grabbed it. As they hit the top stair, a floodlight turned on, evidently motion activated. It was also evidently cheap, as it flickered a handful of times before dying altogether. 

The _three_ on the door of the apartment was lopsided, missing a screw. As they got closer, Brendon was hit with the smell of at least one werewolf--and his father. Unmistakable once he was this close. 

He took a breath, deep, through his nose, and found exactly what he was looking for.

Pete. Faint, under what seemed like a million smells, hidden--but Brendon could smell Pete anywhere. 

Patrick and Brendon looked at each other for a long moment before Patrick took a deep breath and pulled the silver screen door open, balancing it seemingly casually on his hip. 

Brendon knew better. If there was even a hint of their cover being blown, that silver door would slam and lock, letting Brendon and Patrick escape. 

Brendon took a steadying breath, and, before he could think himself out of it, raised his hand and knocked three times, quickly, like he was nervous. It wasn’t a stretch.

There was rustling from inside. Brendon could hear urgent whispering, a volume humans wouldn’t be able to hear. 

“Who is it?”

“Smells human. Why are humans here?”

“Should we answer it?” 

“We have to. What if it’s cops again?”

“Fuck me. Send the human.”

“ _Fine_ , I’ll do it.”

Brendon tensed as he heard his father’s voice, and tensed even further as he heard the lock slide back and the doorknob rattle. 

“You sure it’s human?” his father asked tentatively, and a vampire snarled. “Fine!”

The door opened and Brendon’s breath caught in his throat as he looked his father dead in the eyes. 

Ten seconds took years, it seemed like, with Brendon’s heart beating erratically for every moment. His father stumbled back, blinking, then rubbed his eyes vigorously and stared Brendon down.

“Dad?” Brendon asked, and his father just gaped. “Mom said this is where you live now.”

“Brendon?” his father whispered hoarsely. “Brendon? You--you were taken from us. I know you were. By...by ferals!”

“By what?” Brendon asked, in a passable imitation of confusion, he thought. “No, um. I left because I was scared. I didn’t know...I didn’t want…”

“What?” his father asked, after Brendon trailed off. “You were scared of what?”

“You,” Brendon said. “Dad, I’m. I’m gay.”

Silence followed that, a full five seconds of it, before a grin broke out across his father’s face, a look of relief and borderline hysteria. If Brendon actually cared what his father thought about his sexuality, he’d almost be offended, but all Brendon wanted to know was if his father believed it. 

“Come in,” his father said, after glancing behind him for what seemed like permission. “Come in. We can settle this inside. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

Brendon absolutely did, but he forced himself to follow his father into the dim light of the apartment. He knew Patrick was right behind him, took comfort in it, and tried to focus on breathing. 

A light snapped on and Brendon blinked. He squinted over at his father, who was still grinning like an idiot, and looked to his father’s side. 

That was the werewolf he’d smelled from outside. He was huge and imposing, with approximately zero percent of the warmth Linda and Spencer had. He looked amused, though, with no trace of the disgust Brendon was familiar with from the Sangsue. Their disguises had to be holding then. If they passed a werewolf nose, they must hold up. 

“Is this your son, Boyd?” the wolf asked, grinning more. “I thought he was missing.”

“So did I,” Brendon’s dad said, and, strangely enough, yanked Brendon into a hug. “Oh, Brendon. I’ve been so worried. Ten years you’ve been gone, and all because you were afraid to tell me you’re gay?”

“The Church,” Brendon said hesitantly, and the wolf laughed loudly as his dad scoffed. 

“Those people?” he said. “No, I’ve left them far behind. They never helped me. The Sansgue helped me. And I promise they don’t care who’s gay.”

“The...what?” Brendon asked, proud that his acting was holding up despite the fact that he sort of wanted to piss himself in terror. “Dad? I’m confused.”

“Of course he is,” a vampire said, poking her head out of the kitchen. “Y’all are overwhelming him completely. Let him sit the fuck down or something, what’s the matter with you?”

“Yeah, whatever, Rae,” the werewolf scoffed. “You know you’re just letting two more humans in, right?”

“Be polite,” Rae said sternly. “Besides, they’re young. They could really help us out, don’t you think?”

“That’s fair,” the wolf said, and gestured down the hall. 

“Um,” Brendon said, and the wolf grinned. 

“We’ll explain everything,” he said soothingly. “We’ll explain, and you can talk with your dad, and reunite. We love a good reunion. He’s right, there’s no need to be scared. We’re not bothered by something as unimportant as who you bang.”

“That’s so crude,” Rae yelled. The wolf laughed again, and Brendon forced himself to follow him down the hall and into a bright, open living room. It was deceptively big, and far nicer than the outside of the apartment suggested. It was almost too good to be true, which meant only one thing: there had to be a magic involved in this somehow. 

Brendon sat where the wolf directed, holding Patrick’s hand tight. He could feel Patrick’s tension and knew he’d come to the same conclusion about magic. Brendon had no idea if Patrick’s spell would hold up to magic scrutiny, but God, he hoped so.

“How rude,” the wolf said. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Shane. The bitch--I mean _wonderful woman_ in the kitchen is Rae. You know your father. Then there’s Nick, and he’s out with Ashley. Now you know us. You’re Brendon, right?”

Brendon nodded haltingly. 

“Yeah,” he said, once Shane raised his eyebrow. “I’m Brendon. This is my boyfriend, Martin.”

Brendon thanked every single deity he knew of that he was quick enough to remember Patrick’s middle name _and_ quick enough to realize that using Patrick’s real name would probably be bad. One gentle squeeze from Patrick’s hand reassured him--it was okay.

“It is so nice to meet you,” Rae said, sweeping into the room. She had that instant classic elegance that Sarah had, self assured and confident, but where Brendon was instantly put at ease with Sarah, he tensed up more once he saw Rae. “Hey! Our hair matches!”

She gestured towards her bleached blond hair, and Patrick squeezed Brendon’s hand again. Brendon sucked in a breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, clearing his throat, pulling out the lie. “Martin’s deaf.”

Patrick had to be deaf because Patrick couldn’t speak. One word would shatter the spell. That apparently was just the way shit was, and Brendon wasn’t taking chances. 

“Poor thing,” Rae said. “I bet Ashley can fix that. If you want.”

“Fix?” Brendon said, then turned to his dad. His heart was hammering. This had to be _good._ It was their only hope. Brendon was uneasy letting so much ride on his acting ability, but it was all he could give, really. “Dad. I’m so, so confused.”

“Let’s start from the beginning,” his dad said, sitting next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He either couldn’t tell or ignored how tense Brendon was, just gave him a squeeze and continued. “It was about ten years ago, I think. You stopped returning our calls. We were so, so worried. So worried, Brendon. So we went up to New York to look for you. You weren’t in your apartment. Your boss said you hadn’t come to work in a month. So we went to the police.”

“I should have said something,” Brendon said, as if he felt bad. His dad squeezed him again. 

“Never mind,” he said. “Anyway, we got ahold of some security camera footage at a club.”

Brendon’s heart sank straight into his stomach, but he hoped his face didn’t give it away. 

“Okay,” he said slowly. 

“Now, we couldn’t tell,” his dad said. “The vampires blocked their victim, but I thought immediately that it had happened to you.”

“Vampires?” Brendon said, trying his best to laugh. It came out strained and stressed, but they didn’t look at him weird, so Brendon considered it a win. “Dad. Seriously. I get I probably made you mad disappearing but come on.”

“I know,” his dad said. “I know it sounds insane. Your mom said it did, too. I bet she told you I was part of a cult.”

“Something like that,” Brendon said. His mouth was dry. “Vampires aren’t real.”

“I didn’t believe it, either,” his dad said, shaking his head. “The church couldn’t answer it. Neither could the police. And then I met Nick, and Nick--he explained everything. He said feral vampires probably killed you. That they weren’t the same as normal vampires. And he was working to protect humans from the ferals. I knew I couldn’t bring you back, but I wanted to help.”

“Dad,” Brendon tried again. 

“It’s okay,” Rae said soothingly. “I know it seems like a lot. I know how it sounds to an innocent human. But I promise it’s real. I’m a vampire. Shane is a werewolf.”

“Werewolves?” Brendon demanded. He felt like he was suffocating. “Stop. It isn’t funny.”

“Don’t worry,” Rae said. “We can prove it. Don’t be afraid.”

She opened her mouth and slowly, her fangs extended. Brendon hoped his show of shrinking back was buyable, he hoped Patrick copied him. All he could focus on was the pounding of his heart, his breathlessness. 

All at once, it hit him. They were in an apartment that belonged to some Sangsue members. He willingly walked in here with only his acting and a spell as weapons, and didn’t have any sort of backup or escape plan.

Rae laughed a little and Brendon flinched. It wasn’t an act, though. He didn’t have to pretend anymore. His terror was very much real. 

“She’s one of the good guys,” his dad said gently. “I know it’s scary, but she’s here to protect us all. So is Shane. So is Nick, and Ashley. They’re all part of a group that’s getting rid of the ferals by any means necessary.”

“What means?” Brendon asked. His voice was shaky without him trying. 

“Show him,” Shane said calmly. “Show him our guests.”

\----

Every step down the hallway seemed endless. Patrick was pressed against his back, breathing shallow. It was almost as if Brendon was moving in slow motion, through quicksand, against the wind. The door they were heading for seemed further and further away, but Brendon couldn’t take his eyes off it. Not even for a second. 

His breathing was loud, Patrick’s heart deafening in his ears. He could smell Pete, he could smell him so strongly the closer they got. Pete was there, he was behind the door, they were about to _see him--_

What they were going to do after, Brendon had no idea.

“Our guests won’t hurt you,” Rae said, and there was almost a gloating tone in her voice. “Well. They would if they could, I’m sure, but don’t worry. We’ve made sure they can’t.”

“How?” Brendon asked. He hoped the fear in his voice made sense. Rae smirked. 

“Oh,” she said airly. “A shock collar for the witch does wonders.”

“Witch?” Brendon asked, somewhat belatedly, and Rae smiled. 

“You’ll learn a lot,” she said by way of explanation. “At any rate, the witch is subdued and the vampire is...incapacitated.”

Brendon couldn’t force a response out of his frozen throat to that. He prayed Patrick could stay quiet once he saw Pete. He prayed he could keep _himself_ quiet once he saw Pete. 

“Now, bear in mind that these are _bad_ creatures,” Brendon’s dad said, a little nervously. “They are evil. We’re doing a service. Keep that in mind.”

Brendon couldn’t respond even if he wanted to. His heart was _hammering._ What condition would Pete be in? How the hell would they get him out? It was a miracle they’d made it this far. Brendon had no hope of fighting off a werewolf and a vampire, even if their missing friends never showed up.

Patrick took a deep breath next to him and Brendon squeezed the hand he was still clutching, trying not to tremble.

“Don’t be afraid,” Rae urged, and Shane pushed the door open. 

Brendon’s heart lodged in his throat as he forced himself to cross the threshold, shoulder to shoulder with Patrick. He was frantic and terrified, but he tried to calm all of that down and focus. He had to focus. 

The room was dim, the only light coming in from cracks under the curtains from what must have been street lights outside. Shane flipped on a bright overhead light and whistled like he was calling a dog--slur not intended. 

Directly in front of them was a magic. Her back was against the wall, fingers curled in her ratty jeans. On first glance, she seemed to be the only thing in the whole room, besides a huge trunk with a silver lock. She had a thick collar on, and even if Brendon hadn’t been told, he would know it was a shock collar. It looked exactly like the ones humans put on dogs and for the first time, Brendon felt fury grow inside him. 

The magic looked young, like she was still a teenager, and she was pale, eyes wide in fear. She was shaking, had been since the light got flipped on, and as Rae smirked, she shrank back further. She ducked her head, vibrant red hair tumbling down the block her face from view.

“Hey there witch,” Rae practically cooed. “What’s wrong?”

The magic flinched and Shane laughed, loud and ugly. Brendon tried to take a deep breath, tried to make sure his anger didn’t show. He didn’t think it was working. His hands were curled into fists and Patrick was stiff beside him. Brendon knew that this was going to end up ugly.

“Where’s the nightwalker?” Shane asked, and Rae scowled at him. “Oh, come on. You can say dog but I can’t say nightwalker?”

“Shut up,” Rae snarled. 

“Bitch,” Shane countered. 

The magic had shrank back as they argued, like she wanted to blend into the wall and disappear. Brendon noticed bite marks all over her--her neck, above the collar and her arms. They were all bruised and barely healed over. God knew how long she’d been here. 

“Anyway,” Rae said. “Where is he?”

“Leave him alone,” the magic said, voice tiny and trembling. Rae laughed. 

“You say that all the time,” she taunted. “How adorable. This, kids, is what a witch can be reduced to.”

Brendon couldn’t come up with an answer, just stared at the magic, heart racing, tears making a knot in his throat. Patrick squeezed his hand again and Brendon cleared his throat. 

“How do you know she’s bad?” he whispered finally, hoping they wouldn’t be able to read through it. “How can you tell the good ones from the bad ones?”

“Years of practice,” Shane said. “If they’re not a feral, you can just ask how they feel about the Sangsue and find out that way. In this case, the vampire we have refused to give up his little pet feral, so he gets to stay a guest of ours. The witch protected him when he unfortunately escaped once, so she got to join him.”

Brendon couldn’t come up with an answer. Rae didn’t seem to notice his hesitance and aimed a kick at the magic’s thigh. 

“Are you hiding him again?” she asked. “Didn’t you learn your lesson from last time?”

“You’re going to kill him,” the magic whispered. Rae laughed.

“That would be a very dumb move on our part,” she said dismissively. “He has a feral and a bunch of other witches we want. Killing him means we’ll never get them. Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll kill you first.”

Despite her overall fear, the magic didn’t seem fazed at the threat. Brendon wondered how much she had to endure to not care if she died. 

“He’s over here,” Shane said. “Her magic is slipping. What’s wrong, burner? Not feeling good?”

Rae cackled, sending a chill down Brendon’s spine. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to turn to where Shane was and see Pete, near dead on the floor. He didn’t want to--but he had to. He had to make sure Pete was really here.

“God,” Rae growled. She took three strides towards the magic and hauled her up, pressing her against the wall and baring her teeth. “I remember asking very, _very_ nicely that you stop fucking healing him. Do you need a fucking reminder?”

The magic whimpered and Rae bit her, hard, right above the shock collar. Brendon saw a trickle of blood drip down the magic’s neck, and suddenly, she screamed as Rae’s venom must have hit her. 

Rae dropped her to the floor as the magic began to cry. Shane snorted and Brendon felt like throwing off the spell and tearing Rae’s hair out--but he would never win. Despite the fury in his heart, he knew he was outmatched. 

Patrick might be able to have the upper hand, but it wouldn’t last very long and they didn’t have an exit plan. They couldn’t do anything yet.

It killed Brendon.

He swallowed and made himself walk, step by step, to where Shane was standing. Every step felt as heavy as lead, and as he walked past the trunk he stopped breathing. 

It was Pete. Brendon felt like throwing up. Pete was sitting with his back against the wall, head dropped to his chest. Brendon could see he was near starving--his skin was almost ghost white, almost translucent, even. The way Brendon’s looked when he was first turned. His hair was much longer than he usually ever allowed it to be, the thick curls back like Brendon had only seen once before. It fell in a curtain over his face. 

Patrick dug his nails into Brendon’s wrist in a clear effort to keep himself under control. 

“She didn’t do a very good job healing you,” Rae taunted, wiping blood off her mouth. “She didn’t even feed you. How sad.”

“I didn’t let her,” Pete said. His voice was flat. “I asked her not to hide me.”

“She’s such a good listener,” Shane sneered. “Just like every witch I’ve known.”

Pete didn’t react. Brendon’s heart _ached_. He was nervous and desperate all in one. 

God, he hoped when Pete inevitably looked up and saw them, he wouldn’t give them away accidentally. He hoped. It was all he could do. 

Patrick was still holding on tight.

“We have guests,” Rae said, kicking Pete’s leg, too. “Be nice.”

“Humans,” Pete said, emotionless. “I’m not feeding from them. It’s a lost cause.”

“Someday you will,” Rae said. “Someday you’ll be just too hungry to refuse. Whatever. These ones aren’t food. They’re friends. Say hello.”

“Hello,” Pete said evenly. He still hadn’t looked up. Brendon was breathless. 

“Useless,” Rae said in disgust. “No fun at all. Hey, wanna learn how he got here?”

Brendon forced himself to nod.

“Poor thing,” Rae said. “You must be completely overwhelmed. Don’t worry. It’s a good lesson.”

“We picked him up in California,” Shane sneered. “He’s a Sire. Those are like, vampire leaders. And he was wandering alone, like an idiot, and we cornered him. Of course, he was strong and shit, he wasn’t a Sire for nothing, but we managed. We told him that we wanted his feral, and he refused. We would have let him go if he lifted the defenses on his house, but he just wouldn’t. He’s all mated with a burner, too, which made us _so_ happy. We love collecting burners--oh, they’re witches. Better name. Anyway, it was such a shame because all he has to do to escape is give that trash up. His fault he won’t.”

“Just goes to show,” Rae cracked, once Shane’s apparent monologue wound down. “Life’s too short to protect garbage. He could be out living his life, but no. Here he is. Life can change in an instant. So be careful who you talk to on the street.”

Patrick squeezed Brendon’s hand almost painfully and Brendon looked at him. He couldn’t quite read the emotion in his eyes. It was something like agony and fury and despair and determination all in one and Brendon suddenly understood that Patrick could handle these two Sangsue, no problem. They might not have an exit plan, but that was what being quick on their feet was for. 

Brendon cocked his head and Patrick nodded slowly. He squeezed Brendon’s hand again and took a deep breath. 

“Yeah,” Brendon said, voice cracking. “You should be careful who you let in your house.”

He saw tension slam into Pete like a freight train. Pete finally recognized his voice, he had to, but before Pete looked up or moved a muscle, Brendon felt Patrick lift the spell. He braced himself to fight back, but suddenly, the air around him got thick, almost sluggish. He looked at Shane and Rae quickly, but they were pinned against the wall by Patrick’s magic, pure shock in their eyes. Rae struggled, but Patrick’s magic, buoyed by fury and two years worth of pain, was far stronger than she was.

He didn’t bother looking for his father. His father didn’t matter. Instead, he took five steps, only one step behind Patrick, to drop to his knees in front of Pete. 

Patrick reached out, hand shaking, and pressed his fingers to Pete’s cheek. Pete jerked like he’d been shocked, and his head snapped up to look Patrick dead in the eyes. 

“ _Trick_ ,” he breathed. He looked even more horrible up close. There were dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks were sunken in and he was _so_ pale. His hand covered Patrick’s and a crease appeared between his eyes as he looked from Patrick to Brendon. “Trick, what are you doing here?”

“If you though for a second that I wouldn’t come,” Patrick said, voice thick. “You’re insane.”

Pete just stared at him, like he wasn’t sure if this was real or not, before Patrick took his hand. 

“Let’s go,” he whispered, and Pete nodded.

\----

Getting out of there was a blur to Brendon. He could hardly take his eyes off Pete, heart pounding as he pictured Shane or Rae breaking free of the strong spell and coming after them. 

He stopped just long enough to rip the shock collar off the magic’s neck and pick her up easily before following Pete and Patrick to the car they’d driven here. They made it without incident, which was a miracle, and Brendon set the magic down in the passenger seat as Patrick pulled Pete into the back seat with him.

Brendon threw the car into gear and drove faster than he’d ever driven in his life. 

Two hours out of Reno, night sky stretched in front of them as they headed towards California, Brendon finally felt like he could breathe. He sucked in a deep breath and pulled over to the side of the road for a minute.

“Are you okay?” Brendon asked the magic, very deliberately not looking at Pete yet. He knew he would break down once he did. “I can’t take the venom out or anything, but can I do something?”

“I’m okay,” the magic said quietly, even flashing him a small smile. “The venom’s mostly gone. I keep thinking this is a dream.”

“Me too,” Brendon agreed. “I’m Brendon.”

“Pete talked about you,” the magic said. “You’re the turned they wanted. I’m Hayley. I guess the Mage is Patrick?”

Brendon nodded. 

“It was brave of you to come,” Hayley said. “It was incredible that you saved me, too.”

“I wasn’t about to leave you,” Brendon said, then took a deep breath.

“It’s okay,” Patrick said softly, knowing like he always did what Brendon wanted. Brendon made himself twist around in his seat. 

Pete was asleep, resting against Patrick’s chest. Though not as much as there should have been, there was more color in his face now, so Patrick must have given him blood. 

Two small, healed puncture wounds in Patrick’s arm confirmed it. 

Patrick had one hand gently tangled in Pete’s hair, and he was rubbing circles into Pete’s wrist with the other. Some of the misery that Brendon could constantly smell on Patrick had eased, and the pain on Pete had diminished, too. 

“He’s not entirely sure this is real,” Patrick said quietly. “I’m not surprised.”

“They told him a lot of times that they had one of you,” Hayley volunteered. “I know he was trying not to believe it, but. They were sometimes incredibly convincing. A week ago they described your house and it almost made him believe them. Almost.”

Patrick kissed the top of Pete’s head. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. “Thank you for trying to protect him.”

“He tried to protect me first,” Hayley said. “I just wanted him to be able to come home to you.”

“What about you going home?” Brendon asked, and Hayley shrugged a shoulder. 

“I don’t have one,” she said. “When I found him after he escaped I just….I just knew he had one. I wanted to help. But we got caught again.”

“Hayley, right?” Patrick asked, and Hayley nodded. “I knew a Hayley once. She was brave, too. You have a home now.”

“Really?” Hayley asked, sounding choked. Patrick nodded, too. Hayley cleared her throat, clearly trying to pretend to be in control of herself despite the tears pooling in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“How long were you there?” Brendon asked. Hayley sighed, wiping her cheeks. 

“A while,” she said. “I lost track of time. More than six months, I think. I tried to feed him when he needed it but I only managed about seven times.”

Seven times. A born vampire feeding seven times would span about seven weeks if they ate conservatively. A starving vampire ate only once every couple of weeks. Vampire feeding schedules were burned into Brendon’s brain. He knew them back and forth and his stomach churned as he realized Pete ate less than a starving vampire would.

Brendon didn’t even know how Pete was alive, let alone how he was coherent. 

“He talked about you so much,” Hayley said. “About Brendon and about you. I’ve never seen a magic overpower a vampire before, and you stopped a vampire _and_ a werewolf.”

“Don’t underestimate how angry I was,” Patrick said quietly. “I know I’m decently strong, even for a Mage, but that’s not something I can do any time.”

For the first time, Brendon noticed Patrick was a little pale, too, like he was exhausted. He had to be. He displayed that much magic and gave Pete probably a little more blood than he should have, but he was still here. 

He was exactly the Patrick Brendon had always known. Brendon could almost pretend that _that_ Patrick hadn’t disappeared for two years.

“Are you okay?” Brendon asked, because he had to, and Patrick gave him a small smile. 

“I will be,” he said.

\-----

They had just entered Shasta-Trinity when Pete woke up. 

It was barely three in the morning, and they were only a few hours from home, so Brendon pulled over to let Pete step outside. 

Hayley was asleep, curled up on the front seat. Brendon looked at her for a long moment, irrationally afraid she would stop breathing or something. The rise and fall of her chest reassured him, so he slipped out of the car, too, hesitating for a moment as he watched Patrick watch Pete. 

Pete was still, eyes closed, taking deep, slow breaths. Brendon guessed it had been a long time since Pete had seen anything outside that room. It was cool outside, like it was at home, and Pete scrubbed his hands over his face before turning to look at Patrick.

Patrick was leaning against the car, arms folded, and Pete crossed to him and kissed him, cradling his face like he was afraid this wasn’t real. Patrick kissed him back, brushing his hair back, and Pete broke away, pressing his forehead to Patrick’s. 

“Is this real?” he asked, voice too quiet. He didn’t sound like Pete. He sounded almost broken. 

Patrick kissed his forehead. 

“Yes,” he said, and Pete buried his face into Patrick’s neck. 

“You could have died,” Pete said, voice muffled. Patrick wrapped his arms around Pete. 

“I know,” Patrick said. “But you could have, too. I found out where you were. I didn’t want to live another day without you.”

“Patrick,” Pete said, and his voice cracked. He lifted his head to kiss Patrick again. “How?”

“They sent us pictures of you,” Patrick said. “Brendon could smell his father. We went from there.”

Pete looked up at Brendon with a look Brendon couldn’t quite describe, a sort of mixture of awe and pride and a little concern, and Brendon swallowed before ducking his head. 

He heard Pete’s footsteps crunch across the leaves, and suddenly, Pete yanked Brendon into his arms, pulling him close and squeezing him tight. All at once, every emotion he’d tried to keep down since Pete’s disappearance came roaring up, and Brendon choked back a sob. 

“No,” Pete said quietly, and his voice was hoarse. Brendon could still smell Patrick’s blood-- _God,_ how hungry must Pete have been? Brendon looked up and Pete touched his forehead to Brendon’s. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Pete continued, seemingly reading Brendon’s mind. “It wasn’t. I’d give up everything for you. Everything. They would have killed me either way and I would rather die than ever let you get hurt.”

Brendon hugged Pete back, not caring that he was being more human than vampire. He thought he would never see Pete again, but he was wrong. Pete was right in front of him and Brendon would do anything to keep Pete from disappearing again. 

“Thank you,” Pete said, voice raw. “Thank you for being so brave.”

“I love you,” Brendon said, and Pete squeezed him again. 

“I’m sorry,” Pete said, even though he had nothing to be sorry for, even though none of this was his fault. Brendon would do it a thousand times over again if he had to. He owed Pete so much, but even beyond that--Pete was pretty much everything to Brendon. 

Brendon shook his head. 

“We need to get you home,” he said thickly. “Everyone--we’ve missed you so much, and you need to heal and to eat.”

“You sound like me,” Pete said, and a ghost of the smile Brendon was used to crossed his face. “When you were a baby vampire.”

Brendon wasn’t ever a real vampire baby, it was a metaphor, but he scowled anyway because he knew it would put Pete at ease. 

“Okay,” Pete said, after a moment of silence. He took a deep breath of the crisp forest air and nodded. “Let’s go.”

\----

Pete was asleep again by the time Brendon managed to get them to the edge of their property. He could feel Patrick’s defensive wards, stronger than they were when they’d left. Andy must have strengthened them as soon as Brendon and Patrick left.

God. He could only imagine what was going through their minds. 

And _Spencer_. He hadn’t let himself think of Spencer at all since they’d left. It wouldn’t have helped. But now they were at the edge of their property and he was going to see his mate and he had no explanation beyond _I had to save Pete._

They had to walk. The wards wouldn’t allow strange cars in. The wards would also certainly inform Andy someone had crossed them, which meant the whole family would be on guard. They would be a wreck seeing Pete, Brendon knew it. 

“Pete,” Patrick whispered, pressing a kiss to Pete’s forehead. “We have to walk. We’re home.”

Pete woke up like Brendon was used to him waking up--in a blink, as if he’d become suddenly alert between two breaths. Brendon swallowed at Pete looked at him for a long moment before looking up at Patrick. 

“We’re home?” he asked, like he still wasn’t sure this was real. Patrick nodded, running his thumb down Pete’s uneven and patchy facial hair before kissing him gently. 

“Real,” Patrick said gently, and Pete nodded. 

It was still dark, dawn an hour or so away, and the air was cold on Brendon’s skin. He glanced up at the sky for a moment, taking in the clear, cloudless view of the stars before following Patrick and Pete into their little forest. 

Patrick had an arm around Pete and was supporting a lot of his weight. He was probably aided by magic, even though he shouldn’t have been using magic so soon, but Brendon wasn’t going to call him on it. Pete was barely able to stand. He was still starving and they had to get him to A&K somehow. 

Their feet crunched on the gravel as they met the wide, long driveway. The hotel they called home was up about a mile on the hill, the roof just visible in the darkness. As they passed the dark outlines of their cars, Brendon gave it about five minutes before Sarah came to meet whoever breached the wards with fangs out. 

He almost looked forward to it. 

He looked at Hayley, who was kind of hunched over, and realized with a pang that she had no idea where she was going. She was putting a lot of trust in them that they weren’t leading her into a hellhole, and Brendon bet she was scared out of her mind. 

“We have three other magics here,” he said quietly. “There’s Patrick, and then there’s Andy and Meagan. Then we have Sarah, she’s a Sire, and Linda, she’s an Alpha, and Spencer, he’s--”

Brendon ducked his head and Hayley hesitantly laid a hand on his arm. Brendon swallowed hard, looking up at Pete and Patrick’s backs ahead of them before trying his best to smile at Hayley.

“Sorry,” he said. “Spencer, he’s a werewolf. He’s my mate. I just--I didn’t tell him where I was going or anything. I hope he doesn’t...think I’m dead or something.”

“I bet he’ll be happy to see you,” Hayley offered. Brendon smiled again and it felt more genuine. 

“After he’s done being pissed,” he said, and Hayley grinned, too. 

Without warning, Pete and Patrick stopped dead in front of them, Brendon almost running into them. He nudged Patrick in confusion, but Pete was turning before Patrick could say a word. 

“Someone is walking up the road,” Pete said. The lines on his face were more pronounced and he was shaking a little. In fear or exhaustion or both, Brendon didn’t know, but he didn’t want to consider the possibilities. He’d never seen Pete even close to being out of perfect control. He didn’t want to think too hard about why Pete would tremble like Brendon used to. 

“But the wards,” Brendon said, somewhat numbly. 

“Get behind me,” Patrick said firmly. Both Pete and Brendon looked over at him. “A strong enough magic could disrupt the wards for a moment. Enough to get a few others in.”

“You can’t hide us,” Brendon objected, once he realized that that was exactly what Patrick intended to do. 

“Brendon,” Patrick said warningly. 

“Trick,” Pete said, voice cracking. “You can’t.”

“We don’t really have a choice,” Patrick said. “And every second you spend arguing with me is a second I don’t have, love. Get behind me.”

The pet name, something Brendon heard so rarely from Patrick or Pete, drove home both the seriousness of the situation and how much Patrick really, really missed Pete. Even less than a mile from home, less than a mile to run and get help, Patrick would rather push himself than allow even a chance of Pete getting hurt again.

There was a lump in Brendon’s throat.

“Patrick,” Pete said. “Please.”

Patrick kissed Pete hard, almost cradling his face, before looking him in the eyes. 

“I will not have you go back,” Patrick said quietly. “And you cannot defend me right now. You can’t even defend yourself. I know my own limits. I love you, but you need to listen to me. Get behind me, Pete.”

Pete nodded, even though Brendon knew he didn’t want to agree, and took a step back. He reached out and grabbed Brendon’s arm. 

“Okay,” Brendon said, even though he wanted to help. He couldn’t do anything. Hiding was their only hope. 

He stumbled after Pete, reaching out for Hayley as he went, but Hayley held firm.

“You need help,” she said, and Patrick shook his head. 

“You’ve been shocked for months,” he said. “No.”

“You’re not my Mage,” Hayley said stubbornly. “You can’t tell me no.”

“I’m your Mage now,” Patrick retorted. “So yes, I can. No. You will hurt yourself.”

“You will, too,” Hayley protested. “Let me. Please. I can feel my magic, it’s fine.”

Footsteps on the gravel down the hill interrupted whatever Patrick was going to say in reply. He froze, and so did the rest of them, as the footsteps drew closer. 

“Fine,” Patrick hissed. Brendon blinked and suddenly, it was like a opaque cloth had dropped around them. Sounds were muffled, even the wind, and everything appeared blurry. The familiar weight of a spell being cast on him weighed down on Brendon’s shoulders, and he stepped closer to Pete.

If this failed, for whatever reason, Brendon would fight for Pete. Even if he had no hope of winning.

The footsteps drew nearer.

“Can you smell them?” someone asked. Brendon was pretty sure it was Rae, but her voice was distorted, almost muffled. Brendon forced himself to take several long, deep breaths, the way Patrick taught him to do way back when he was barely turned. 

“Yeah,” Shane said, unnervingly close. Brendon could see him crest the hill less than a few feet from where he could see Hayley standing. “Ashley, get your fucking ass up here, then.”

“I’m not a dog like you,” a woman spat, and Brendon watched her join Shane. “Their wards were fucking strong, I’m exhausted, God. Are you sure this is the place? How’d you drop the letter here?”

“Mailbox is outside the wards,” Shane said dismissively. “Would have walked it right to the door and put it in the burner’s own hands if his wards didn’t stop me.”

“Fascinating,” Ashley said. She roughly yanked her waist-long black hair into a bun and frowned. “I can feel other wards, on the building. I’m too tired for this shit.”

“Can you ignore them?” Shane asked.

“No,” Ashley said, like she was talking to a particularly idiotic three year old. “Because that’s stupid. Are you an idiot?”

“Someone’s coming,” Shane said, narrowing his eyes as he looked in the distance. “Fuck. Humans, you think?”

“At three in the morning in the middle of a forest?” Ashley demanded. “On vampire property? You _are_ an idiot.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Shane snarled. “I’ll show you the meaning of burner if you run your mouth again.”

“Do the same spell,” Rae ordered and Ashley glared at her. “You know, the one that makes you vanish. The disguise one that the other burner did.”

“I can’t,” Ashley said slowly. “Because I’m not a fucking Mage and I’m tired. And they can probably already see us, anyway. We’ll have to hide in the trees.”

“Like animals?” Shane demanded, and Ashley snorted.

“It’ll come naturally,” she said, and Shane growled. “The angrier you get at me the less time you have to hide.”

“Move your fucking ass,” Rae spat. “You’re gonna pay later.”

“I smell magic,” Shane said darkly. “What if it’s a spell?”

“Want to bank on it?” Rae demanded. “Fine. Stay.”

Shane growled and took two steps to follow Rae when Brendon heard a loud, nasty growl. Shane growled back but went flying anyway. He landed less than a foot from Brendon, who flinched but stepped in front of Pete anyway. Just in case.

“How’d you get on my property?” Sarah snarled. Her fangs were out, eyes flashing, and she turned and threw Rae to the ground in a single move, interrupting her attempt to sneak up. “Do you know the shit you’re in right now?”

“I know,” Linda taunted, coming up from behind Sarah. “I know the shit you’re in. You smell _very_ familiar, puppy.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Brendon saw Ashley backing away. She was clearly the smarter one of the group, taking one look at the odds stacked against her and bailing. 

_“No!”_ Meagan shouted from behind Brendon. He jumped and whirled around. Meagan was staring Ashley down with absolute fire in her usually calm eyes. She had her hands into fists and she was almost shaking. “Where is he? Where’s my Sire? Where’s my Mage?”

“You’re not a nightwalker,” Ashley spat, even as she backed away from Meagan. “He’s not your anything.”

“He is!” Meagan said, voice cracking. “Where is he?”

Brendon felt the weight lift off him as Patrick broke the spell. He still stood in front of them, even in front of Hayley, and Brendon watched a mixture of shock and relief cross Sarah and Linda’s faces.

“Glad to know you can handle yourselves,” Patrick said quietly.

“Fuck,” Shane said.

\----

Taking out the Sangsue trash took very little time. Brendon didn’t ask Sarah what they did with them--he really didn’t want to know. He sat on the couch kind of numbly as the commotion continued around him. 

Andy had taken Patrick and Pete and Hayley the second they stepped through the door. Nobody fought him--Sarah just stopped them long enough to press her forehead to Pete’s for a long moment, and then she allowed them to go. They were in good hands, Brendon knew it. Andy would have them physically better in no time. 

Brendon still felt kind of numb. He couldn’t get the image of Pete in that desolate room out of his head, couldn’t make himself comprehend that Pete had spent two years there--it was all so, so much. 

Spencer and Zack and Joe were all in the heart of Eureka, and had been all night. Brendon barely realized it had only been two days since they’d left. It felt like a lifetime. 

He jerked out of his thoughts when someone sat next to him.

“Sarah,” he said softly, and leaned against her. She put her arm around him gently and sat, quiet for a moment. 

“I knew you were brave the moment I met you,” she said finally. Brendon pressed his face into her shoulder. “You probably expected me to kill you. But you still thought of everyone else first. And you lied to me. Not to protect yourself, but to protect Pete. I knew exactly what kind of vampire you were going to be after that.”

“I didn’t think you were going to kill me,” Brendon corrected. “I thought Jon would.”

“Well,” Sarah said. “My point still stands. You’re brave. It’s probably why I wasn’t surprised at all that you took off. I think I’m the only one who felt confident that you knew what you were doing. I was worried you’d be hurt, but I knew you wouldn’t have made this decision impulsively.”

“It was my dad’s scent,” Brendon said. “On the pictures. I thought it was better if I went alone. And then Patrick caught me.”

Sarah squeezed him. 

“Thank you,” she said. “I know I don’t have to tell you how much Pete means to me, but I will anyway. All my confidence in being a Sire came from him. Doing it by myself has been near impossible. So thank you for being so brave.”

“Thank Patrick,” Brendon said. “He did most of it.”

“You couldn’t have done it without each other,” Sarah said. “You’re both completely out of your mind, but maybe that’s what we needed to get Pete back. A little crazy.”

“Maybe,” Brendon managed. “Are they going to be okay?”

“Eventually,” Sarah said. “Pete and Patrick have gone through a lot together. This will suck for a while. And then it will slowly get better.”

“You said suck,” Brendon said, grinning. “You’ve been hanging around humans too long.”

“I’ve been hanging around you too long,” Sarah growled playfully. Brendon laughed, actually laughed. “Patrick said he didn’t even think about grabbing Hayley. You did.”

“He was focused on Pete,” Brendon shrugged. “Who can blame him?”

“He will,” Sarah said. “But he’ll get over it. Spencer’s here.”

“He is?” Brendon asked, voice cracking. Sarah tilted her head. 

“Linda’s telling him,” Sarah said. “Want to brace yourself?”

“I want to see him,” Brendon said, and it felt like an instant later, Spencer was two feet in front of him, staring at him with wide, dark eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Brendon said, after what felt like an eternity of silence. Sarah had disappeared, but Brendon barely noticed. “I had to, Spence.”

Spencer growled and pulled Brendon off the couch to kiss him hard. Spencer’s familiar scent clouded Brendon and he breathed it in, like he always did. 

“I love you,” Spencer said, once he’d managed to pull away. He was watching Brendon with a sort of fear in his eyes. “I thought you’d given yourself up. I thought I lost you. Please don’t ever do that again.”

“You would have stopped me,” Brendon said. Spencer nodded. 

“I would have,” he agreed. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” Brendon promised. “I had to save him. I knew it would work because it had to. I’m sorry.”

Spencer kissed him again, gentler, and Brendon kissed back. For a moment, it was like nothing had gone wrong. Pete had never disappeared. Brendon had never found out about his father’s involvement with the Sangsue. For a moment, everything was okay again. 

As Spencer fumbled for his hand and squeezed it like it was a lifeline, Brendon thought that it was okay if things weren’t alright right now. Eventually, they would be.

\---

**Epilogue:**

Three years after they got Pete back, Brendon turned thirty.

In human years.

It should have been irrelevant. He wasn’t human anymore, he should be counting his vampire years, but there was a significance to thirty that he couldn’t ignore.

It meant he was _old._

“I’m old,” he whispered to Spencer, who snorted. 

“The oldest,” he agreed mildly. “Are you ready to get up? Old people get up before ten PM.”

“I’m not _that_ old,” Brendon decided. “C’mere and kiss me.”

Spencer rolled his eyes but obliged, before slapping Brendon on the ass cheerfully.

“Up and at ‘em,” he said, but his voice was all Spencer-rumbly so Brendon thought he could probably get away with curling up close to him for a couple more minutes. 

Brendon was right, because Brendon was right about everything. He lightly bit at Spencer’s neck, making sure he didn’t actually break the skin, and Spencer huffed a laugh before tangling his fingers in Brendon’s hair. 

“Your haircut is awful,” he teased. 

“It’s my _birthday,_ ” Brendon protested. Spencer was grinning. “Asshole.”

“Hey, I’m only telling you the truth,” Spencer said, still grinning, before kissing Brendon softly. “Your haircut is fucking awful.”

“I’m going to shave you in your sleep,” Brendon threatened, and Spencer just laughed before shoving Brendon unceremoniously off the bed and onto the floor. “God, fine, I’m up. It’s my birthday, you know.”

“How could I forget,” Spencer deadpanned, and Brendon laughed his way out the bedroom door and into the quiet hallway. The carpet was soft under his bare feet, the way it always was, and it was sprinkling outside, rain splattering against the windows. Brendon could see the branches sway in the wind outside and watched for a moment.

Thirty. 

In reality, he’d died when he was eighteen, but he still had a hard time remembering that, really. He felt alive. He felt whole. He’d outgrown most of the tiny things that proved he hadn’t been born a vampire and honestly felt sometimes like he’d been one forever.

Speaking of being a vampire, he was hungry, so he took the stairs two at a time until he emerged in their lobby-turned-den. The lights were on, which didn’t surprise him. He might be thirty and all now, but he still woke up late. Pete and everyone were probably already awake.

Joe’s treasured flatscreen was showing the ten o’clock news, and Brendon watched for a moment. The Spring parade was tomorrow. He forgot what human news was sometimes, and he grinned as he ducked his head in the empty kitchen. 

It was empty. His stomach growled. He knew there was blood in the fridge but he sort of wanted to bug Patrick for his. Magic blood was already great, but Mage’s blood was outstanding and it was Brendon’s birthday, so there.

Patrick would probably buy that. He was kind of a pushover for Brendon, anyway.

If Patrick wasn’t in the kitchen or den, he was probably in the garden. Brendon headed down the hall, bumping the door open with his hip and descending the three steps into the humid greenhouse. He could immediately smell Patrick, and gave himself a little mental cheer for being right. 

As he rounded the corner, Patrick came into view. He was sitting on one of the benches, the one facing out the wide window, feet tucked underneath him. Pete was next to him, resting his head on Patrick’s shoulder, and their hands were entwined. 

Brendon loved them so much it almost hurt. 

He was either quiet enough to avoid Pete’s notice, which was unlikely, or Pete was too distracted to realize he was there, which rarely happened. Brendon watched Patrick press a kiss to the top of Pete’s head and grinned a little.

“Andy said he did,” Patrick said, and Brendon belatedly realized he was answering a question Brendon had missed. 

Pete hummed. 

“Did you know Spencer actually _asked_ me?” Pete said rhetorically, and Patrick snorted. 

“Werewolves,” he said, a teasing note to his voice. He nudged Pete playfully. “Who are you going to ask?”

“You,” Pete teased. Patrick laughed before kissing Pete. 

“You’re going to have to defend my honor,” he said, and Brendon was willing to bet Pete rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Pete replied, but there was love in his voice. “I can’t believe it.”

“What?” Patrick asked. Pete was quiet a moment. 

“I’ve had him for twelve years,” Pete said finally, and Brendon realized with a pang that Pete was talking about _him_. “He’s grown so much. In every way.”

“He still does stupid things, if it helps,” Patrick said wryly.

“He wouldn’t be mine if he didn’t,” Pete said. Brendon sort of wanted to curl up next to him like he did when Pete had just turned him, when the world was big and loud and scary and he didn’t trust anyone else but Patrick and Pete. 

He felt Spencer approach and leaned into his embrace, not taking his eyes off Pete and Patrick. Spencer gave him a squeeze but didn’t say anything, letting Brendon pick a leaf off a plant and keep watching. 

“It’s his birthday,” Pete said, and Patrick snorted. “But no matter how old he is, I always know when he’s spying on me.”

“I’m not spying,” Brendon protested, even as he fought a bubble of laughter. Pete didn’t look at him, just patted the bench next to him, Brendon grinned and grabbed Spencer’s hand, dragging him towards the bench.

He sat next to Pete, nudging him until Pete relented and dropped an arm around his shoulders. Spencer sat at the very end, taking Brendon’s hand gently. 

“Did the wolf have to come?” Patrick said, but he was teasing, smirking at Spencer, who smirked back. Brendon pinched the closest part of Patrick he could reach. 

“Be nice to my mate, Dad,” he complained, and Patrick flicked his ear. “It’s my birthday.”

“How could I forget?” Patrick asked dryly, echoing Spencer’s earlier words, and Brendon stuck his tongue out at him. 

Patrick wasn’t wearing his hat yet. His hair was back to red, not white, and there was warmth back in his eyes. His contacts weren’t in, so he had his glasses on, and Brendon grinned before he could help it.

“I’m hungry,” he said, and Patrick rolled his eyes. 

“There’s blood in the fridge,” Pete said mildly. Brendon looked at him, instead.

He almost looked like he’d never been kidnapped. His hair was a little longer than it used to be, but he had it straight instead of curly. His skin didn’t look sallow or sunken, and even though there was a little more darkness in his eyes, he looked more at ease, like he felt safe again. Almost. 

“I don’t want cold blood,” Brendon said, fighting another grin. 

Pete narrowed his eyes. 

“We have a microwave,” he said, somewhat threateningly. 

“It’s my birthday,” Brendon said again, and Pete flashed his fangs at him. 

“Brat,” Pete said, and Brendon laughed, resting his head on Pete’s shoulder. He squeezed Spencer’s hand, who squeezed it back, leaning a little bit on Brendon. 

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, Brendon watching Patrick gently stroke the inside of Pete’s wrist. Pete was copying the movements seemingly unconsciously on Brendon’s shoulder. Spencer was warm against Brendon, and Pete was cold on Brendon’s other side. The rain hit the window in front of them, harder than it had been falling when Brendon woke up, a soft rhythm against the glass. 

“The answer is yes, Spencer,” Patrick said quietly, and Spencer looked up suddenly. Brendon did too, in confusion, looking between Patrick, whose expression was soft, and Spencer, who looked practically dumbfounded. 

“Really?” Spencer asked. Patrick nodded. 

“Did you think we’d say no?” Pete asked, and Spencer looked like he was struggling for words for a moment. 

“I don’t know,” Spencer said uncertainly. “Brendon’s yours.”

“Brendon’s an adult,” Patrick said. “And we love you, too.”

Spencer grinned. 

“Okay,” he said, cheeks a little pink under his beard, and Brendon frowned. 

“What?” he complained, and Spencer kissed him hard. 

“You’ll see,” he said. “Maybe.”

“It’s my _birthday,_ ” Brendon repeated, outraged, and all of them laughed at him, even as Spencer kissed him again. Brendon couldn’t fight his own growing laughter, in between Spencer’s kisses. He still didn’t really know what Spencer and Patrick were talking about, but he thought he could probably wait. 

He was thirty now, after all. He was thirty, and he still had Pete, and he had Spencer. He was thirty and he could wait.

As Spencer kissed him again, earning a _gross, we get it_ from Patrick, Brendon figured he could probably pry it out of Spencer later, anyway. He was pretty good at that, after all. 

“Happy birthday,” Pete said quietly, into Brendon’s ear, underneath Patrick and Spencer’s good-natured bickering. Brendon grinned up at him. 

Yeah. He could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm back on tumblr @ smalltalktorture.tumblr.com if you wanna give me a follow or yell at me another place. thanks for reading, means a lot.


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